Pieday
by Julie Verne
Summary: On the 14th of March, Root bakes. Set after season 4, episode 1.


Shaw skulked into the subway, boots kicking at the worn concrete. Roots face lit up, even as Shaw scowled up at her.

"What's so urgent, sunshine?" Shaw asked snarkily. "I got places to be."

"Well, I got you this," Root said enticily. "Well, I made you this. All of you." Root handed out small comms units. "Off the grid. No Samaritan listening in." Root's hand brushed Shaw's as she handed Shaw's over, and Shaw snatched her hand back like she'd been burned. Shaw threw herself down on the subway bench, turning the comms unit over. Neat, professional looking. Root had to have a 3d printer somewhere.

"And since the date is fortuitous, I made pie!" Root said, exclaimed in a singsong voice, uncovering a plate with a flourish.

"Pie?" Reese asked. "What?"

Finch chuckled. "Very clever, Miss Groves."

Root dolloped cream on the pie, sliced it up and handed it around. The second last slice she handed to Shaw. The last she balanced carefully on her lap as she sat next to Shaw on the bench, thigh ever so casually pressing against Shaw's.

"You're wasted as a hacker," Reese said, face full of pie. "You could have stars. Five. Michelin."

"Kind of you to say," John, Root said amicably, "but I don't think my talents are wasted.' Root dug into her own slice next to Shaw. Shaw shook her head impatiently, dug in her fork. Bear whined at Shaw's feet. 'Oh, I got you something too." Root pulled a squeaky toy shaped like a pie out of her pocket, and Bear took it with noisy joy.

"Oh dear, you're so messy," Root said sweetly, looking up at Shaw from where she'd leaned forward. She raised her thumb to Shaw's mouth, swiped along Shaw's cheek and lower lip, pulled away with whipped cream. Root considered her hand a moment, then slipped her thumb into her mouth. Finch choked on his pie somewhere near them, but neither noticed.

"I need to.. go… be over there. And do… something. Mr Reese?"

"Yes, I will help. You. With the thing. Over there," John said robotically and they both went into the subway carriage with their pie. Root licked her fingers clean, and when she swallowed, Shaw did too, Root watching the motion in her throat. Shaw licked her lips, and Root followed that movement too.

"Oh, I got it all," Root said teasingly. "And the last slice. But if you want a taste of my pie, sweetie, all you have to do is ask." Root's fingers had been as soft as Shaw'd imagined on Shaw's face - and Shaw had imagined how soft Root's hands would be touching her face, shoulders, hands, they way her fingers would feel wended between Shaw's own - and for a moment she thought that Root had been going to… to kiss her, with those lips that had touched the thumb that had been on Shaw's lips. Shaw wondered if Root could taste her in any way, if Root knew… of course she knew, she was watching Shaw with that irritating smirk, with those massive mooney eyes she only made at Shaw, lower lip jutting out a little.

Shaw's mouth was suddenly dry. She looked around for the boys; she could have sworn they were here only a moment ago. Shaw didn't blush, but she felt the blood rushing to her face. Blood rushing. Blushing. Huh. Qualified doctor couldn't figure out a simple contraction.

Shaw turned back to her slice, shoved the rest in all at once, stood in a swift, fluid moment and headed for the stairwell, chewing furiously.

Root took two long, casual steps and caught up with Shaw easily, stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"You got a little something," she said kindly. "Right…" and Root leaned in, pressed her lips to the corner of Shaw's mouth, mostly her cheek but it was definitely Root's lips Shaw could feel against her own, warm and pliant the way she always thought of Root's lips but it was hard to concentrate over the sound of her own beating heart. Root's hands went to cup Shaw's cheeks, ended up flat on the lapels of her coat. Shaw found her eyes had involuntarily closed, and when she opened them Root had finally pulled away, licking her lips with satisfaction. "There. Michellin would need to add another star for me," she said cockily, and Shaw's breath caught at how flippant Root was, like it'd meant nothing to her, after all this time, all this flirting she'd thrown at Shaw, who was almost ready to… accept it. Root caught something amiss, leaned back in and caught Shaw's lips with her own.

"Then again, that's not part of the recipe," Root said breathlessly a long moment later. "And I don't want anyone else getting a taste of that." And Shaw's could see now, the colour in Root's cheeks, the catch in her voice.

"I gotta… go." Shaw said gruffly, hands stuffed in her coat pockets. Root's head tilted to the side, trying to read Shaw, to see if her impatience was die to the kiss or the plans she'd had.

"Well, don't forget this," Root said, slipping the comms device into Shaw's pocket. Her hand slid over Shaw's, and Shaw's eyes closed again.

"Thanks for the pie, Root," she said finally. "I've never had better."

Shaw's hand turned in her pocket, grasped Root's hand for a moment. It felt better than she'd been able to imagine. Then Shaw was gone.

Whenever Shaw smells raspberries, she thinks of math, of infinite numbers, of a brilliant engineer, of the woman she wants to come home to. She thinks of summer fields of fruit that smell like Root's hair, of sunsets, of holding hands as the sun goes down over an ocean somewhere. She thinks of what she wished she'd said, she thinks of the way Root kissed her.

It's unfortunate for Shaw that so many of the things they stock at the makeup counter smell exactly like raspberries.

Notes:

So my health has significantly declined since something in Canada. I'm… ok. I can walk. I'm home, I'm safe and my brain mostly works. So, while I can't update the stuff I left hanging right now, take a fluffy snippet suggested by shutterpunk.


End file.
